God is dead
by OakeX
Summary: The brain stem thrums with war and the cortex crackles, neurons flying off as they scream 'God is Love, God is Love. And Love is Dead.' Oneshot.


**SO I was recently watching Epic Rap Battles on YouTube and came across a rap battle involving Frederich Nietzsche. So I looked him up, and was fascinated by his philosophy behind God is Dead.**

 **And then I went to fellowship (I'm not really a Christian, but I'm interested in the framework of Christianity, and I have interesting discussions with the people there), and I listened to this really powerful worship song, and that gave me some ideas.**

 **So as soon as I came home, I grabbed the computer and sat down and wrote all this (pfttt I make it sound like I wrote a lot).**

 **It was great. (Though rip, I live a pretty boring life if the only thrilling thing that's happened to me recently is writing inspiration).**

 **Yeah. Update on my life, for those of you who are interested.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Sisters Grimm**

* * *

God is dead here. God may exist in His ragged fragments in other parts of the world, and God may never have touched that apocalyptic chamber of Hell, but God once flourished here, and now God has been slain.

His jagged lightning bolts have been replaced with the devil-red sparks of magic.

And His thunderous roars have been drowned out by the gasping pants of the soldiers.

And His Son dethroned, His Son replaced by a boy —no, by a _man_ — the Second Coming of The Messiah, wreathed in dragon fire and flying on wings no human has ever touched, with the glimmer of steel in his hand and the pounding of blood in his ears, Puck Goodfellow flies out of the sky from orders on high, to mete out justice to those unfortunate souls who have crossed his path.

Charged with bloodlust, his girlfriend watches on.

* * *

For we shall break backs.

And we shall sow wroth.

God is dead but He comes back, and The Devil surges in to claim his territory, and the fairy charging in is the uncontainable representation of the two. For Puck Goodfellow is God Returned but with a vengeance, and he is Michael but supernova, and he is Satan if Satan were three fallen angels instead of one. He is Old Testament Avenger, Archangel with Heaven's Armies, and The Holy Trinity of Lucifer, merging good and evil until it becomes chaos, challenging the foundations of morality until it breaks down.

He comes in with divine calamity and human error on the brain, so Ragnarok infuses into the left and World War into the right, to attack all damned and save all pure, to attack all pure and save all damned, to destroy destroy destroy and above all

to conquer.

Sabrina Grimm watches him, her heart conquered.

* * *

His sword whips out, and a man crumbles— the Tower of Babel.

He takes to the air and slices down, bisecting his enemy— Solomon's baby.

A hulking brute of an ogre lumbers towards him and he pounces, landing fifty different slashes that bleed in fifty different areas— Legion's demons.

Observe, as God binds biblical tales to these men, forces their flesh to become word just as his Word has become Flesh again. Observe, as the Devil corrupts his stories, and perverses their natures to become demonic. The war of good and evil erupts, the war of Soldier From Above and Soldier From Below wages on, shown by the sparkling of blood, the cries of the wounded, shown by the dying whose lives flash before their fading vision, and the dead who can no longer tell the tales of their lives.

A blonde girl's eyes shift to the night, observing the romance of the stars? Or observing the rapid ascent of her love, who will come plummeting down again, as the Angel of Death.

* * *

Puck and Sabrina meet, surrounded by dust and decay. Their eyes lock. They grin. Their lips smash together, and they taste iron. His hand grips her in a condensed instant of furious contact. And then he spins her around and tosses her towards the enemy, a co-ordinated charge so that she may skewer her blade on the man in front of her, a melding of the love that drives them together, and the ache for destruction that drives them apart.

* * *

For God is dead here.

God, as the absolute apex of morality, has died here.

Thus seeping in through the cracks comes War. And creeping in with the rising dawn comes Chaos.

In a barren landscape, where all that can be seen is swordsteel, and all that can be heard is the clashing of metal, the Divine Constant which once kept order cracks and breaks apart, and naught is left but shadows melting in. The pendulum flies. The scales tip. The fulcrum is compromised so that there is no swinging back towards equality, but rather the rapid shifts and the heady taint of War.

The smell of blood infects the nostrils. The taste of flesh corrodes the tongue. The war of divine proportions drips down onto mankind.

Bloodlust consumes. The rage of war climaxes to a screaming frenzy. God and Devil may fight, but for now, Death lays his skeletal fingers on the dusty plain and claims it to be His.

God is Love. Love is Dead.

The earth spins on, but the clouds whirlwind.

* * *

 **I do have another story which I will be posting very very soon on a request from True00Fangirl- it's taken me ages but I'm almost done, just hang on a bit more.**

 **Thanks for reading, you guys. I hope you liked it.**


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